The List
by SilverMooonshine
Summary: Three girls. Three eras. The same old problem.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.**

 **Written for the QLFC Round 11: Top of the Pops  
Position: **Harpies, Chaser 2  
 **Prompts:  
** Let It Go (Idina Menzel) - "Be the good girl you always have to be."  
4 (word count) 2,319  
6 (word) blink  
7 (restriction) the whole fic can only take place in one room  
 **Word Count:** 2,319

 **To be clear, this all takes place in the same room, just in three different time periods. My line to base my fic on was "Be the good girl you always have to be." I took from this the idea of having to live up to expectations and having to be perfect, so I hope that comes across. The three different font types are the three characters to make it easier to separate. Enjoy!**

* * *

Minerva carefully unpinned the badge from her robes, placing it delicately on the dark brown of her new bedside table. The gold words glinted at her in the candlelight – _Head Girl._ Neatly hanging her robes up in the oak wardrobe, she methodically laid out her few possessions. The pictures of her family went on the chest of drawers. A flick of her wand sent her clothes into folded piles, and her books into organised rows on the huge bookshelf.

She perched gingerly on the edge of the bed. Glancing around, it looked similar to her dorm back in the Gryffindor Tower – only without the people. Not that it was much of a loss; to lose people who barely acknowledged your existence when you lived with them for six years.

But since receiving the badge in the post last month, she'd come to realise it wasn't just people she'd lost. It was her chance to be able to make mistakes without repercussions, and of a year without responsibility.

"Oh, M–"

 _"Merlin, I'm shattered," Lily exclaimed to the empty room, throwing her robes on the floor and collapsing on the huge bed. She didn't even take time to look around the new room much, her limbs were too exhausted to move._

 _She'd never even dreamt about getting the role of Head Girl. Unfortunately, now that it had happened, it meant that she'd never thought about the amount of work that it would entail. In between meetings with Professor Dumbledore and the heads of houses, organising prefect rotas and dealing with that flaming James Potter, she'd barely had a moment to sit down all day._

 _There was always the prefect bathroom, but she knew all the excited fifth years would be using it on their first night. Besides, she longed for a quiet room where she could actually sleep. 'It was a smart idea,' she mused, 'to have separate heads' dorms. There's not a chance anyone could do this job, plus maintain a social life.'_

 _She chuckled to herself, but it faded quickly. She thought of her dormmates with a sigh. She missed them already. Of course they still had lessons together, but she'd miss their late night discussions. She didn't know how she'd deal with this year as it was, let alone without someone to moan to about Dumbledore's absurd choice for Head Boy._

'Head Boy: Michael Corner

Head Girl: Hermione Granger'

She stared at the plaque on the wall, her eyes seeing but not quite believing. She could tell the plaque had been recently added, but all of the old names were on there. She scanned the list, surprised at the anonymity of most of the names. There was Professor McGonagall, and of course Harry's mother, but they were among only a handful of names that she recognised.

She'd revered this role for years. It was a secret dream; one that it had broken her heart to give up when she'd gone on the hunt for horcruxes. And yet there she was.

She didn't know what she'd expect when entering the Head Girl dorm for the first time. Perhaps worry, elation, or even just exhaustion. But she hadn't expected to feel that deflated. 

Reading over the list again and again, the realisation began to set in. For years there'd been so much _importance_ placed on this job. And yet most of the people on here didn't matter. They might matter in their own little jobs, and their own little families, and their own little lives. But they didn't matter. Not in the way that everyone expected her to, in a way that would change the world.

There wasn't even anyone left to see her. Her parents were still getting their memories back, and Harry and Ron had jobs. It was just her left to join the real world; just her left, too scared. Scared enough to hide herself in the safety of Hogwarts. To wrap herself up in the safety of her title, naively thinking that it would protect her once she'd left. Letting out a sob, she buried her head in the soft pillows, the mumbles barely audible.

"None of it matters."

"Matters of welfare are to be taken to a member of staff or to me, while you may deal with matters of discipline yourselves, in a manner that you deem acceptable."

Even the mirror seemed to be mocking the rehearsed words, and her quill scratched out yet another line on the blackened parchment. She could write any essay required, regardless of length or topic. She revelled in it. But when it came to people, it seemed she was clueless.

She tried to tell her self that they were just fifth years, that she was in a position of power and that they would respect her. But in truth, she'd always gotten on with adults better than people her own age. She'd rather sit in the library or dorms than the common room with the rest of the Gryffindors. Of course, there was the Quidditch team where she showed up for weekly practices, but she kept it strictly professional.

She wasn't deaf to the comments, nor blind to the sneers that this behaviour had earned her. She simply didn't care anymore. There had been first and second year where she had locked herself in the toilets during mealtimes, and her dorm the rest of the time. Her roommates gave up quickly – much to her relief – and it wasn't long until she settled into her life of silence.

Not that she was alone. She had her books; shelves and shelves of them at home, each week her mother would send another to add to the ever growing towers that walled the fortress of solitude that was her bed. That was her favourite thing about her new dorm, she had decided. There was room for a wall's worth of books, and she could read them without a single judging stare.

Staring at the book in front of her, the words blurred into each other on the page. She tried to blink back the hot pricks of tears at the back of her eyes, not quite catching the stray one that escaped , only to roll into nothingness as it hit the soft cotton of the sheets.

She'd given up on any attempt of sleep, pushing the thoughts of tomorrow's early start to the back of her mind. She had prefects to meet with before breakfast, and a meeting with Professor Sprout about the rebuilding of the greenhouses. All of this was between the NEWT classes she was taking. She wondered how long it would take them to break open the door if she refused to leave in the morning.

 _Mornings had never been Lily's forte, and she had a feeling that things weren't about to change now. She thought back to the promises she'd made when the letter had dropped into her room just a few weeks ago. They had, of course, included getting up in time to actually shower before breakfast each morning, but they also contained more important things. Merlin knows she needed to change._

 _The problem was that she'd figured out how to play the system. For her fist few years she did everything right – got her homework in on time, answered questions, and was polite in her lessons. After that, she had her reputation. Late homework was let off if only occasional, and quiet talking at the back of classrooms was overlooked. Everyone saw her as a good girl, whether she was one or not._

 _She just never expected it to be taken quite so seriously, and certainly not enough to land her in such a position of responsibility. She was scared that she'd have to start living up to this persona, the one who deserved to be Head Girl. So this year she was determined to be_ good. _To be good at her job – and in her lessons – but more importantly to be the kind of person who deserved to have this prestigious role._

 _Part of her wondered why she was even worrying about all of this. She highly doubted Potter would be sat across the hall biting at his nails and unable to sleep. He was probably snoring his head off, or else would have snuck his friends in. She bet he was having a whale of a time with all these privileges; not expecting to have to do any work. No, she thought, that would all be left to her, just like the charms assignment they'd had to work on together last year._

 _Unlike charms, she didn't know what she was doing here. She was in at the deep end and it didn't look like there was anyone to stop her from drowning._

Drowning in pieces of screwed up parchment and empty pots of ink, Minerva lay defeated between the four posters of her bed. It was her island; a safe place that was almost similar to her dormitory back in the tower. In the tower where her only responsibility was to do prefect duties every week and to take care of herself, instead of have responsibility for the school she loved so much.

She looked up at the light tapping on the door. Kicking a few pieces of parchment into less visible corners, she pulled the heavy door away from its frame. Behind it stood Professor Droope, a kindly witch who taught Herbology. She had only just finished Hogwarts herself, and some of the other professors still treated her as a student. She was good at her job however, and for that Minerva respected her. In fact, she was surprised to find that for the first time she could remember, she was glad to have company.

 _Company appeared at a rapping on the door, a stern tap that she instinctively knew belonged to Professor McGonagall. She sighed reluctantly, longing to stay curled up on her bed and try to sleep. Heaving herself up, she had barely opened the door when the professor strode through into the room._

 _"Professor –"_

"Professor, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, no, my dear," the teacher replied, settling herself down at the desk and gazing fondly around the room. "Do take a seat."

There was only one place left to sit, so she perched on the bed with her leg and waited in silence for her teacher to speak.

Eventually, the silence broke.

"You know," Professor Droope began. "I was Head Girl back in my time at Hogwarts. Purely for academic reasons, you see, and a lack of girls in my year to pick from. Still, I got the badge, the room, all of this. Although it looks like you have more books."

Books skimmed Hermione's fingers as she looked for a companion in her loneliness. They hovered over a few titles, eventually landing on 'The Tales of Peter Rabbit.' It was tucked between two huge volumes on Charms, and seemed totally out of place in the room.

"Perfect," she muttered to herself, her voice filled with bitterness at the irony.

She flicked open the first page, and a letter fell to the ground. Surprised, and more than a little curious, she swept down to pick it up, tearing it open as she sat down on the bed.

' _Dear current Head Girl, whoever you may be,_

 _My name is Lily Evans, and you've probably never heard of me, as I'm definitely no one special. I'm just one in a long list of names, but I like to think I've done my bit. And part of that bit is to pass on the words I heard on my first night here. I don't know if that's still a tradition, but I imagine as long as McGonagall's still there then you'll hear this speech. Which basically means everyone will, because I don't imagine she'll ever leave, knowing her._

 _Forgive me, I'm rambling. What I mean to say is, I've reached the end of my years here, and I want to help someone else who was just as worried as me. To reassure you that you're up to this job.'_

 _"This job is one of the most prestigious there is, Lily, but for all the wrong reasons."_

 _Lily just looked at her professor with confusion painted across her face. The last thing she'd been expecting was a pep talk from her head of house. But apparently it was tradition, and this was what Professor McGonagall had been told on her first night. So she listened._

 _"You weren't picked for grades, or for manners –"_

"You were picked for the respect you command. People listen to you, and they will follow you if you want them to. But part of this job is wanting them to, because if you don't want to lead then no one will follow."

' _Follow they will if you are kind, and fair, and do not allow your prejudices to blind you. Merlin knows it's easy enough to favour your own house, succumb to rivalries, but you must remain a leader to all. But there are other forms of prejudice. Accept help from the teachers who you may not like, from the prefects you deem inferior, or from the Head Boy you think is irresponsible. They might just surprise you.'_

 _"You don't have to be perfect, is what I'm telling you," Minerva said with a soft smile at Lily. "You were picked for who you are, not for someone we wanted you to become. Don't be some good girl who you think you have to be, just be yourself. Good luck, Lily."_

"Good luck, Minerva."

 _'Good luck, Head Girl. Lily x'_

Hermione sat for hours with the letter clasped in her hand, reading it over and over. As dawn came, she neatly folded it back into its envelope, and placed it in the book on the shelf, ready for another on their list.


End file.
